The Wand Chooses the Wizard
by Dalwyn
Summary: Harry truly is the Chosen One.


A/N: I once gave an author feedback that he was making everything too easy for Harry, that his story didn't command my attention. Another author made a similar point in his profile comment, that if one makes the protagonist stronger, one must also increase the difficulty of his challenge, or lose any dramatic tension. This is a rule I take seriously.

And will now break. This story is something of a lark. A bunny bit my ankle and no amount of worrying at it could get me free. So here it is. I know it has some internal inconsistencies. I know there are plenty of things in canon that contradict this. It is what it is – just an amusement. And I hope you're amused at least a fraction as much as I was.

Disclaimer: Jo's world and characters are the property of Jo and an infinite number of lawyers. All I own is my bizarre sense of humour.

_Italicized text_ borrowed with my compliments from canon (book or movie), though I've omitted large bunches and rearranged snippets somewhat to suit.

TWCTW

_The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window._

"_Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped._

_An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop._ Harry supposed him to be Mr. Ollivander.

"_Yes, yes," said Ollivander. "I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question._

"_Your father favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. Well, I say your father favored it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."_

"_Well, now – Mr. Potter. Let me see. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."_

_Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit._ He felt a warmth in his fingers, and a few red sparks flew from the wand.

"Hmmm," said Mr Ollivander thoughtfully. "Not what I might have expected, but adequate. The wand chooses the wizard after all. Let me box this up for you."

He had only started to turn when another wand box flew from shelf, landing directly in front of Harry.

"Maple and phoenix feather," Mr. Ollivander said distractedly, peering at the box as if he had never seen it's like before. "Seven inches. Quite Whippy." He opened the box, offering the contents to Harry, who carefully removed the wand. A small wave and a number of brighter red sparks streamed out.

"Curious …," muttered Ollivander, only to be interrupted by another wand box, flying off a shelf, landing again directly before Harry.

Ollivander looked at the box, at Harry, then back to the box. "Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy."

He glanced behind him at the shelf. Harry followed his gaze. Everything seemed … preternaturally still. One could hardly say that boxes could wait, but that was the best way Harry might have described what he saw: hundreds or even thousands of boxes on the shelves seemed, somehow, to be waiting. On the edge of their seats – well, shelves – as it were.

"Very curious," repeated Ollivander slowly. He straightened suddenly. "Well, let's box this one for you," he said briskly. "Oh, well, as it is already in a box, I can let you have it just like this. That will be 5 Galleons, please. Please accept this wand servicing kit with my compliments. Have a nice day."

TWCTW

Harry's first class learning magic was Charms with Professor Flitwick. The Professor seemed very nervous, and squeaked in surprise, falling off his stack of books, when he called "Harry Potter" during the roll. Harry wondered whether Flitwick was entirely human, seeing how short he was without the books. But once he settled down he gave an excellent lecture.

Concluding his presentation, he said, "That covers the theory. Now everyone please take out your wands and let's all practice the motion. Remember, it is swish, and flick."

Harry dug into his bag and removed his wand, very excited to try his very first spell. Facing the Professor again, he slowly realized that most of the other students hadn't gotten their wands out.

Flitwick had just noticed the same thing. "Well?" he asked. "Why aren't you getting your wands?" Looking to a student in the front row, he asked "Where is your wand?"

The boy looked quite embarrassed and muttered, "I don't have one. Sorry, sir."

Flitwick was stunned. "Don't have one?" he squeaked incredulously. "Why not? How can you practice charms without a wand?" He shook his head.

"What about you?" he tried again, looking to a girl in the second row. "Where is your wand?"

"I don't have one either, sir. When I visited Ollivander's, none of his wands matched me. Ollivander is making me a custom wand, but it will be a few weeks. Apparently there is an unprecedented demand just now."

Flitwick looked at her for a moment, not saying a thing. "Custom wand!" he squeaked. "Custom? Why ever would you need a custom wand? I've never heard of a student requiring a custom wand!"

"I'm sorry sir," the girl said, quivering a little, as though she might burst into tears. "None of the wands he had would match me. I'm sorry …" she trailed off.

Flitwick paused, then gently said "it isn't your fault, dear, but I'm very surprised." He looked back to the first boy. "Is this also true for you?"

The boy nodded, grateful to not have to explain.

Flitwick looked around the room. "How many of you don't have a wand?" Harry saw that perhaps three-fourths of the students put a hand up. "And are all of you waiting on a custom wand?" There were many nods, and a muttered "Yes, sir" from several.

"Well," Flitwick said, "this is certainly unprecedented. I have never known Ollivander to fail to match a student to a wand in stock. And to happen to so many at the same time … I wonder what might have happened to his wands to bring about this result."

TWCTW

_There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor._

_Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers._

"_Who cares?" said Harry and Ron together._

"_Perhaps," Snape drawled sarcastically as Lockhart slowly picked himself up, "it would be prudent to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells, professor?"_

"_An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape," Lockhart replied brightly. "Let's have a volunteer pair. Potter, Weasley how about you?"_

"_Weasley's wand causes devastation with the simplest spells," Snape chided. "You'll be sending potter to the hospital wing in a matchbox. Might i suggest someone from my own house? Malfoy, perhaps?"_

At Snape's jerk of the head, Malfoy strode up onto the stage. Harry approached from the other end, and Lockhart muttered "Good luck, Potter" as they passed.

"_Wands at the ready!" Lockhart announced._

Harry and Malfoy faced each other, saluted.

"_Scared, Potter?" Malfoy sneered._

"_You wish," Harry replied flatly._

They turned, paced back 5 steps, and turned to once again face each other.

_Lockhart continued, "On the count of three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent - only to disarm. We don't want any accidents here._

"_One …_

"_Two …_

Malfoy jumped the gun, and raising his wand quickly he bellowed "Diverte Status!"

Nothing happened.

Harry was shocked. Malfoy looked at his wand disbelievingly, then yelled another spell, "Serpentsortia!"

Again, nothing happened at all. The students began muttering, some snickering.

Malfoy was apoplectic. "What do you think you're playing at?" Malfoy shouted, and before Harry could say anything, he turned and stormed out of the hall, yelling "Wait until my father hears what you've done to my wand!"

_Snape, meanwhile, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry didn't like it._

Though whatever happened that stopped Malfoy from casting took some of the edge off Harry's uneasiness.

TWCTW

"_Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."_

_Wormtail approached Harry, and with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone. He thrust Harry's wand roughly into his hand, then resumed his place in the circle of watching Death Eaters._

"_You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness._

Harry's mind raced. 'Duel?' he thought incredulously. 'Duel?' His mind was having trouble getting past the initial thought.

But then he remembered, as though from a former life, the dueling club at Hogwarts he had attended briefly two years ago … All he had learned there was the Disarming Spell. And remembered what had happened when Malfoy had attempted to curse him. 'Perhaps …,' he thought to himself, afraid to jinx the situation.

_We bow to each other, Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Bow to death, Harry."_

Harry's initial inclination was to defy him – that felt right somehow – but then realized that if this was going to work at all, he had to make sure the confrontation stayed to wands. No more knives, or worse. 'Don't make him too angry," Harry thought to himself.

_The Death Eaters were laughing again._ Harry glanced around at them briefly, then back to Voldemort.

"_Very good," said Voldemort softly, as he raised his wand. "And now – we duel."_

_Before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move,_ Voldemort flicked his wand toward Harry.

Nothing happened.

Voldemort looked at his wand briefly, raised it, then drove it toward Harry more forcefully. "CRUCIO!" he yelled.

Nothing happened.

A slow smile spread across Harry's face, as Voldemort's eyes bulged. Around them, the Death Eaters shuffled nervously.

"What is this .. thing?" Voldemort screamed. "Wormtail! Where is MY wand?"

Harry raised his own wand now, pointed it at Voldemort, and very deliberately said "Expelliarmus!" Voldemort was thrown back into a nearby headstone, his wand flying through the air to Harry's raised left hand. As Voldemort looked up at Harry, stunned, Harry shouted again "Stupefy!", and Voldemort fell down, unconscious.

Harry glanced at Voldemort's wand, and placed it in his trouser pocket. Carefully. "Now would be the wrong time to lose a buttock," he smirked to himself.

This was too much for Wormtail. "Incarcerous!" he yelled, thrusting his wand towards Harry.

Nothing happened.

Wormtail looked bug-eyed at his wand, while Harry heard a variety of spells being cast from the circle. "Stupefy!" "Crucio!" "Bombarda!" "Avada Kedavra!" "Saeta Damnum!"

Nothing happened.

Harry braced, then shouted "Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!" disarming each of the Death Eaters in turn, turning the circle as quickly as he could. When he got back to Wormtail he switched to "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"

And then the graveyard was silent. He stood very still for a moment. Looked around carefully, and shivered once at the sudden release of tension. He put the collection of wands in his left hand into his trouser pocket. Very carefully.

'Well,' he thought to himself, 'what do I do now? I wonder if the cup will take me back?'

This reminded him of Cedric, and he ran over to his friend and fell to his knees. And as the tears pressed against his eyelids, Harry's unnatural calm was broken finally and replaced with a growing anger. He stood up again, and pointed his wand once more at each Death Eater and Voldemort in turn. "Accio! Accio!" And finally, with a forceful "Incarcerous!" all the Death Eaters and Voldemort were bound together with thick, heavy ropes.

Looping his left arm through the rope, and grabbing Cedric with that hand, Harry pointed his wand at the Cup, "Accio!", and _felt the welcome jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked. They were going back._

Wouldn't everyone be surprised.


End file.
